How hard can it be...Mature

Long distance relationships are always difficult, what makes it more difficult is an age gap. These mix, and fireworks can ensue, add in a few friends with complicated love lives and you have a fabulous story.....


This lesson is boring, I thought to myself. I looked to my left; Rachel looked as if she could drop off right in front of me. How can one teacher make a lesson so goddamn boring? Rachel looked at me, clearly thinking the same thing, rolled her eyes and smiled back at me. Current topic we are learning about is exercise and health and wellbeing. Sounds interesting, when in actual fact, it isn’t. I would rather gauge out my eyes than be here. All I want to do is go home and curl up with my boy, I break a smile at this thought then suddenly realise that he text me earlier to say that he wasn’t coming today. Oh well, I thought, at least me and Rachel are off to Spoons after this idiot has finished droning on about complete and utter tosh.
             “By doing regular exercise it keeps you emotionally happy. Isn’t that right?” she said, looking directly at me, expecting me to answer.
             “Well...” I said, trying to think of a suitable answer, “In my experience it does. I find exercise really relaxes me. I mean when me and Rachel go to the gym we find it very good for the emotions don’t we?”
             I trail off, sensing everyone has lost interest in my answer, as so often happens in this godforsaken place. My thoughts take over again. The exercise I participate in keeps me very happy indeed. It is obvious that I censored that answer for the tutor. I really doubt she would be pleased if I talked about my private life, so freely. In my peripheral hearing I can hear my teacher say something about an exam question. Suddenly Rachel is tapping my arm, signalling something.
             “C’mon Jen. There is a seat in Wetherspoons with my name on it and its not gonna be there much longer if you don’t hurry the fuck up!”
             I look around to find her packed up and raring to go, bag packed poised to jump in the car. I shove all my papers into my folder and promptly start searching through my bag for my keys and phone. Eventually and to my relief I find both. I have two new messages, according to my phone.
             So sorry about today. Am definitely coming down before tomorrow night. Will be there to give you a hug when you get back from college. Love you. R x x x” I smile to myself. I love him with all my heart. This has given me something to look forward too.
             You going to town or McDs/anywhere? If so, can I hitch a ride? Please. Begging You. X x” I tell Rachel about other best friends’ message. She agrees he can come with us. Must ring him back on way down corridor.
             “You still upset about before, lovely?” Rachel asks
             “Nah, not really,” clearly lying through my back teeth, “I mean he said he would be back tonight, but if I am honest I can wait another 12 ish hours” I listen to the phone ringing, no answer, “Bloody men” I mumble.
             “What have we done now?”
             “Erm...nothing?” I venture, “Anyway me and Rachel are going to Spoons. You game?”
             “Yeah alright. When you going?” I think to myself that this is a very stupid question, seeing as it is lunchtime. However I decide to ignore this idiocy and carry on
             “We’re just walking down the corridor now. Meet you at my car in 5? It’s parked on the gravel bit. See you in a minute. Bye” I hang up without giving him any say in the matter, as I need to finish my conversation with Rachel.
             “So how long is he down for this time? A few days or a week?” she continued, “He seems to make quite a lot of short visits down here. Does he never stay for longer than 3 days?” In my opinion she sounded rather sarcastic for my liking.
             “If I’m honest, I don’t actually know how long he is down for, but as long as I get to see him, I don’t really care”

For the past three and a bit year I have been in a long term long distant relationship with a lovely Scot. Rory is his name and he is a couple of years older than me, when I say a couple, I mean four. To save you doing the calculations I met him and started a relationship when I was 14. It was one of the many things my parents disliked; they thought I was much too young for such a mature relationship. They thought he was just after one thing and one thing only. He however, won them over by coming to see me, pretty much every holiday we had. Another thing you may be wondering is how I met him in the first place. Well, our college has a good sports reputation, in particular rugby; Rory was amongst one of the many teams that have played our college. He saw me watching and hung around and came looking for me. Cliché huh?

We pulled up to the car, where Tom was already waiting for us. He looked in a slightly bad mood. I think we kept him waiting for a little too long. Oops. Once I unlocked the car we all piled in. My little 206 is my faithful friend, however, I do think that Tom looks slightly out of place in the back. He really is quite stacked, I can see in the rear view mirror that he is taking up about half of the space in the back. I thank myself that I didn’t ask anyone else to come as well, as there would be no room. I also think that Rachel seems out of place in the front seat as well. She is, bless her, one of the smallest people I have ever met. I start the car and the radio plays automatically. Before I know it, there is a cry of disgust from that back seat.
             “Jesus Christ. Can you please turn this shit off?! It’s doing my head in” I refrain from telling him we have only been in the car for literally 10 seconds. I, however, decide this is a bad idea, “Haven’t you got any CDs in this car Jen?”
             “Erm. Yes. I think I do,” I say, concentrating on trying to reverse the car out of its parking space without crashing into anything or running anyone over. I gesture to Rachel, “I think there is a few in the glove box.”
             Turns out I am correct. Amongst the pile of shite I keep in there, including a bra (don’t ask), toothbrush, make-up and food, are numerous CDs.
             “Well. We have 60s, Biffy and Mumfords. Which one then, Mister Music Maestro?” she quizzes Tom with a huge grin on her face.
             “Urgh. Mumfords, I suppose,” he gave in and muttered, “You ought to get some decent music in here y’know”
             “Oi. You. Pipe down, otherwise you are gonna get kicked out of this car and no trip to Spoons for you.”

From the grin Rachel shot to Tom a few seconds ago. I have the notion, she fancies him. Must remember to quiz her about this, when Tom is well and truly out of earshot. 

The End

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